


What Friends Are For

by TheEndofEternity



Category: Foundation - Isaac Asimov
Genre: Friendship, Pretty much canon - Freeform, Trantor, mostly canon, this actually happened probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 19:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11065881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEndofEternity/pseuds/TheEndofEternity
Summary: Dors is having a difficult time during the first long period of time without her husband since they got married. With Imperial responsibilities at a minimum, Daneel finds time to rectify the situation.





	What Friends Are For

Cleon, first of the name, had gone to bed early after drinking a little too much wine and getting into a row with one of the court guards (and after Demerzel had to urge him not to order that he be beheaded), so Demerzel did not have much a need to feign sleep. 

Instead, he worked on some routine paperwork, occasionally turning away to write personal notes that might be useful in his role as a journalist or his “other” project. There was a steady hum of Trantorian contemporary in the background, although it was controlled with discretion in case anyone were to question the presence of music so late at night. 

Fully completing his nightly dump of imperial paperwork, he was about to direct his attention to his journal article when he received a bright “ping” inside his mind. 

He knew exactly who it was. There was no one else, no other robot, who could communicate in such a fashion within range. 

“It’s a bit late, Dors, isn’t it?” He said, or rather, thought. 

One of the major misgivings of this form of radio communication, or any form of distance communication, was that Daneel could no longer rely on mentalic cues to gauge the emotions of the person he’s communicating with. However, the silence that followed Daneel’s playful chide was characteristic. 

Dors finally responded. “I’m sorry to bother you, Daneel. I’m sure you have a lot of work to go through, or sleeping to pretend to do.”

Daneel smiled faintly to himself. She wasn’t wrong to assume his schedule to be so dense. 

“You’re no bother at all. My imperial duties are finished for the night, if you can believe it. Cleon got a little too well acquainted with the bottle this afternoon and went to bed quite early, so I was able to attend to my work much sooner, and with little interruption. Are you feeling alright, Dors?”

“Sometimes I hate how well you can read me.”

“Some parts, I suspect, you appreciate, or else you wouldn’t be contacting me at this hour…?”

Dors replied swiftly. “Of course! To be honest, I’m not feeling as bad as I am lonely. Hari left town for a mathematics consortium. We haven’t been apart like this since we got married. I suppose I feel a bit of emptiness without him.”

He understood this feeling all too well– for him, such a feeling lasted a lifetime. 

“Is there any way that you might be able to communicate with him while away?” 

Dors sighed, if one could imagine the mental equivalent “I’m afraid not. Well, he certainly could, assuming he was awake. But it’s nighttime in his time zone as well, and he requires sleep.” 

“Have you not tried resting yourself, to pass the time?”

“I have. There’s just too much on my mind. I don’t like being away from Hari. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening to him, or if he’s safe.”

Their conversation proceeded in milliseconds, which might have been shorter if the conversation were not so long range; that is, across sectors. However, Daneel’s train of thought seemed to take a slight detour.

Originally, and without conscious prompting, Daneel’s mind follows a strict adherence to logical sequence, with parameters to ensure a tranquil transition to each sequential task of day-to-day life. It is through, in human terminology, what could be called “intuition”, that multiple pathways each within a reasonable confidence interval arise, and it is through these interruptions in thought, incomprehensibly small in length to a human, that these pathways are able to form. 

This intuition, of course, not being possible without Daneel’s encounters with Elijah Baley, who he has since modeled his interrogative and intuitive abilities after to a great degree. 

It is also through this relationship that Daneel could sympathize with Dors’ situation. It is difficult to be separated from a person who you so care about that their presence makes your entire system so wholly optimized. When a robot has felt this sensation, it is very difficult to live below that state of functionality, as Daneel has learned for the past twenty thousand years. 

The detour led to a thought, which Daneel then put into words. 

“Dors, would you like me to come by your apartment? It sounds like you could use the company.”

It was, after all, a slow night, and it wouldn’t be the first time that the First Minister had to go away in the middle of the night due to unexpected happenings in a different sector. 

Although he could not see or feel the sensation, he knew, somehow, that Dors was smiling. 

———————————–

After a bit more light conversation, Daneel “severed” the connection to Dors and began to rearrange his office so that any signs of late-night work were obliterated. However, he still had one major task in the room to attend to before he left– he was still Eto Demerzel.

Of course, if he were to assume the persona of Chetter Hummin, he might be recognized by either a colleague or casual observer, which would hinder his ability to return to the palace in due time. So he would have to improvise with what he had; not too difficult with the wardrobe allotted to him in his position of political power. 

As soon as he finished getting dressed and relatively well-disguised, he hung up his fine night robe and proceeded to one of his many secret exits. 

——————-

When he arrived at the door, Dors was wearing a slightly oversized sweater and shorts. No need for sleeping attire, but enough to be casually comfortable. 

Which stood in great contrast to Daneel’s own garb. 

Dors chuckled, eyeing him up and down. “Are you wearing a suit?”

“I am. I suppose I’m underdressed for this affair?”

Dors smirked. “Come here.”

They embraced for a good minute and Dors led him into her small apartment.

“Apologies for a bit of a mess. Totally not my doing. You know how Hari is, of course,” Dors said, discretely pushing a pile of history prints under the bed. 

Daneel waited for Dors to take a seat on the bed, then sat at one of the desks that existed within the room. 

“How long?” He asked. 

Dors sulked. “Two weeks. I mean, we’re not completely devoid of conversation. But he’s so busy. And engaged, as he often gets with his mathematics. I sometimes feel like he’s more married to math than he is to me.”

Daneel smirked. “I recall a conversation with him about that exact topic. Surely you don’t feel…”

“Underappreciated? Not at all. I knew what I was getting into, in any case, getting married to a mathematician. Just as he did getting married to a historian. And of course, his involvement with psychohistory notwithstanding. I suppose it’s a bit of a package deal.”

“And I suppose I’m included in this package, much to Seldon’s chagrin.”

Dors smiled teasingly. “Perhaps that’s true. But to my knowledge, he really does admire you.”

Daneel tilted his head curiously at Dors. “Is that right? I suppose, perhaps self-indulgently, I’ve always wondered.”

Dors shrugged. “I figured you’d be able to tell. You know, the way you do.”

“My abilities only work to a point, and I’ve never willed that knowledge to be available to me. But it is pleasant to hear.” 

“I think by now he’s gotten over the brashness of your person as Hummin. At least, since he’s gotten to know the real you.” 

“Chetter Hummin, brash? You must be joking.” He smiled facetiously. . 

“I didn’t even think to ask. How difficult was it for you to get here? No imperial obligations to attend to at this time of night?”

“None that I felt took priority over your maintained happiness, which I believe to be of the utmost importance. They will wait for me, and with certainty, be there in the morning unfettered, just as Sir Cleon will be waking up with a miserable hangover.” 

“You couldn’t keep him him check?”

“It’s not within my abilities to do so, nor is it my responsibility.” 

Dors smirked. “I always thought you entire job was acting as Cleon’s personal babysitter.”

Daneel shook his head. “Not entirely. My duties involve a great deal of matters in addition, such as preventing galactic catastrophes or massive economic downswings due to decisions made under Cleon’s occasional bad temper.”

“That sounds like fun,” Dors said sarcastically. 

“It’s absolutely fun,” Daneel said with a blank face, “And undeniably tiring.”

“I can’t even imagine. I’m glad that I’ll likely never be in a position where I’ll have to deal with politics, any of it!”

Daneel was silent, then diverted to a different topic. 

“I noticed Raych’s absence as well. Where has he gone to?”

Dors shook her head, seemingly aggravated. “He went with Hari. Which under any other circumstance would be just fine, but he apparently begged Hari sufficiently to allow him to wander off to some janky amusement park with some off-world friends. And naturally, I worry about him.”

Daneel nodded. “Naturally. But he has learned, certainly, from his mother, how to protect himself?”

Dors sighed. “I suppose. It’s just enough that I have to worry about Hari. And then being alone didn’t help. I’m glad you came by. How long can you stay?”

“And as you can see,” he gestured towards his outfit, “neither my attire nor my appearance are exactly suited for my public personage. Naturally, it’d be in my best interest, as well as yours, for me to stay until morning. If that would be alright?” 

Dors smiled brightly. “It’s as if you’ve read my mind.”


End file.
